Hugh Dennis was so boring I divorced him: Ex-wife reveals the ups and downs of being married to Outnumbered star

As a much put-upon father who is constantly being outwitted by his three, vegetable-hating, anarchic and lovably infuriating children, comic actor Hugh Dennis has become a television hero to the guilt-ridden middle classes throughout Britain.

Dennis stars as comprehensive schoolteacher Peter Brockman in the BBC’s brilliant, semi-improvised Outnumbered, a sitcom set in a chaotic suburban home, in which two parents (Peter’s wife Sue is played by Claire Skinner) struggle – not always successfully – to cope with family life.

Painfully accurate – largely because the children are allowed to make up their often hilarious and sometimes excruciatingly frank lines – the series has turned Dennis into one of the country’s best-loved performers.

Happy: Hugh Dennis and Miranda Carroll on their 1987 wedding day, pictured with her parents Jean and Michael

Until Outnumbered, Dennis, 49, had a loyal, yet more select following among the aficionados of cutting-edge comedy. He voiced characters for Spitting Image and has guest-hosted Have I Got News For You?

Currently, he hosts BBC2’s improvisation show Fast And Loose and Radio 4’s long-running satirical series The Now Show. And he has appeared as a team captain in every episode of the risqué Mock The Week.

As such, Dennis is probably unique in that he has a broad, populist appeal while maintaining impeccable credentials as an edgy satirist. One would assume, therefore, that a performer with such an instinctive grasp of what people find funny would himself be blessed with a fine sense of humour.

Not so, according to 48-year-old Miranda Carroll, his first wife, who now lives in Los Angeles, and who offers an intriguing view of Dennis the man as opposed to the Dennis the hilarious performer.

‘It may come as a shock to his fans,’ she says, ‘but he was boring. People see him being funny on television, and doing hilarious improvisations, but when we were married, Pete [he uses his middle name professionally because the actors’ union Equity already had a Pete Dennis registered when he was starting his career] had no spontaneity, no sense of fun. Ultimately, that killed our marriage.

‘Anyone who knows comedians will tell you that it’s not uncommon for them to have a public persona that is very different from their private life. Some, like Tony Hancock, are depressives.

TV hit: Dennis with his onscreen wife Sue, played by Claire Skinner, and three anarchic children in Outnumbered

‘It’s strange to see Pete being so spontaneous and exuberant on television, because those weren’t qualities that were in great evidence in our day-to-day lives. I had to live with the Pete who was restrained, serious and unexciting.’

Although he is now happily married to his second wife Kate, (they live in Chichester, West Sussex, with their two children, Freddie, 13, and Meg, 11), Dennis’s relationship with Miranda was by no means insignificant. They were together for 14 years and, last week, the comedian admitted that the greatest disappointment of his life was their divorce in 1993.

A pretty, blue-eyed blonde with a crisp English accent that has survived six years of living in America, Miranda runs the communications department of the prestigious Los Angeles County Museum of Art. She has also remarried, to a British screenwriter, but has had no contact with Dennis ‘in years’.

Yet her memory of why their relationship failed is still clear.

Dennis was born in Kettering, Northamptonshire, the younger of two sons of Church of England priest John Dennis. He was raised in Mill Hill, North London, where his father – who later become Bishop of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich – had a parish. Dennis was a bright boy but one who hid his anarchic talents from not only the careers adviser but his future wife as well.

Split: Carol says despite one session of marriage counselling she knew she and Hugh would divorce

‘We were studying for our A-levels when we met,’ says Miranda. ‘I went to South Hampstead High School for Girls in North London and he went to the independent all-boys University College School.

‘After A-levels he went to Cambridge and I went to Manchester University. We dated through college, remaining faithful. We should really have been out having fun with other people. I’d go down to Cambridge, and we saw a lot of each other. But he was really very studious.

‘His roommates nicknamed him “Desk” because he was always glued to it. One night when I joined his friends for a drink we drew him a map from his desk to the pub so he could find it.

‘He wasn’t a funny guy. He was pretty normal. He could do some funny voices and impersonate the Archbishop of Canterbury, but there wasn’t a lot of call for that. I was quite surprised when he got into Cambridge Footlights.’

After college, in a move that doesn’t readily equate with razor-sharp, establishment-mocking satire, Dennis became a brand manager at Unilever, looking after Mentadent toothpaste, Timotei shampoo and Denim aftershave. He stayed there for six years and was definitely on the fast track for senior management.

‘He liked that job, and would have been happy in a lifelong career there,’ says Miranda. ‘He proposed to me over dinner at a restaurant on Fulham Road. He didn’t get down on one knee and didn’t have a ring. We were still young when we married – only in our mid-20s.

‘Friends used to say we were more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Perhaps it was because we were not very demonstrative. Maybe it’s because we’re British, and naturally restrained – stiff upper lip and all that.

‘I should have seen all the clues that he wasn’t ever going to be the exciting husband I craved. I didn’t really understand what was wrong with our marriage, I just knew that something was missing.’Yet at the time, it had seemed to Miranda that they were perfectly suited.

‘My parents were very middle class – my father was a marketing executive and my mother a teacher – as were Pete’s family.

'Though his father was a bishop, Pete hadn’t been indoctrinated and wasn’t especially religious. In fact, we rarely went to church after we married.’

Their wedding took place in July 1987 at a church in Ipswich, with Dennis’s father presiding over the service. The reception, for about 100, was held in a marquee in the garden of the bishop’s residence in Ipswich.

‘At the time I thought it was the happiest day of my life,’ says Miranda. ‘I had no qualms about marrying him. I loved him. It took me years to realise that there was some spark missing. I was 24 but didn’t realise how young that was until years later. I thought I had everything I ever wanted. But even then, I was aware that Pete wasn’t the most romantic of men.

‘After the ceremony we drove away in a car that had been sprayed with shaving foam and had tin cans tied to the back. It was all great fun. Then we drove around the corner and Pete stopped, took all the tin cans off the back and drove straight to a car wash.

‘When we arrived at our hotel I realised he hadn’t told them it was our wedding night, hadn’t booked the honeymoon suite, nothing. We just checked in like regular guests. It took all the romance out of it.

‘He was very sweet and loving but not terribly exciting. He just couldn’t manage romance. On the plane to Italy for our honeymoon he ended up sitting 20 seats behind me.

‘I turned 25 on our honeymoon. We were in Parma. Pete was a fanatical runner and had brought his kit with him. He went running at 3pm on a sweltering day and returned to our hotel sick with dehydration, so we couldn’t celebrate my birthday.

‘Over the years I realised that I was missing something, but couldn’t articulate it. Looking back, I can see that I had an unsatisfied wanderlust, and was trapped in an unadventurous marriage. Since leaving Pete I’ve travelled the world. I’ve been to India, Egypt and Qatar, visited Hawaii and, six years ago, moved to Los Angeles.

‘I’ve also realised that Pete and I lacked an emotional openness, an ability to communicate our needs and passions. We just didn’t seem able to discuss our emotional needs, and that can be stifling.’

Yet for all the plodding, Dennis had a secret yearning for an audience. He had kept in touch with his friends from Cambridge Footlights – including Steve Punt and Nick Hancock, who later went on to host TV sports quiz They Think It’s All Over for ten years. Inspired by them, Dennis started performing stand-up comedy, and had some success after teaming up to form Punt and Dennis.

The duo played countless small and often thankless club gigs, but got their big break when they were spotted by Jasper Carrott, who put them on his TV shows. The pair then scored another success as half of The Mary Whitehouse Experience with Rob Newman and David Baddiel. Soon after the demise of that show they were given a chance on their own and came up with The Imaginatively Titled Punt And Dennis Show.

All the while, Dennis had a slightly schizophrenic existence, struggling to juggle his day job in the office with his comedy act.

‘After six years he left Unilever to do comedy full-time, but it was a gamble,’ says Miranda. ‘I was the one with the steady job at London’s National Gallery, where I was head of information.

‘He was becoming successful, and started being recognised in the street. But I was still bored in our marriage. I wanted to travel but instead I was stuck at home while Pete toured the comedy clubs. I don’t like a lot of his comedy, especially the very visual stuff. I prefer quick-witted verbal comedy. Some of his routines I found embarrassing. We just had very different senses of humour.

First foray: With his first comedy partner, Steve Punt The pair went to on host their own sketch show

‘I also realised that Pete wanted children and the thought scared me. I didn’t want anyone to be dependent on me.

‘We started having problems around
1991, when I realised there was something missing from our marriage. It
was just a general malaise. Perhaps I’d changed. I don’t know. I just
knew I wasn’t happy, and needed more. Pete couldn’t give it to me.

‘By
1993 we finally split. We tried marriage counselling, but I only lasted
one session. What’s the point? Our marriage clearly wasn’t working.

‘I
walked away and left him in our big house. I didn’t want it. I moved
into a grimy flat in Croydon. We concluded our divorce by fax.’

Dennis
has rarely spoken of his first marriage, but once admitted: ‘I would
have married Kate sooner, were it not for my ongoing divorce. My first
marriage lasted nearly seven years. But we were too young.’

That
he still regrets the way his marriage to Miranda ended appears to be a
point of principle and honour rather than a continuing emotional problem
for Dennis.

‘He’s
always been a perfectionist, never failing at anything,’ says Miranda.
‘He was head boy at school, then got an exhibition to Cambridge, where
he got a first, and then got a great job at Unilever. Then his comedy
career took off. He’d never experienced failure before – until our
marriage ended.

‘I
remember how upset he was when we broke up, but I told him: “You’ll
thank me in the end, because you’ll be happier” – and he is.’

Indeed, Dennis last week agreed that despite his regrets at the broken marriage, ‘subsequently that proved to be a good thing’.

But for Miranda there is one final, telling story that neatly sums up their relationship.

For
two years after they got married an outrageously pricey bottle of
vintage champagne – a wedding gift – sat unopened in the fridge of their
London home.

After seeing the bottle languishing alongside the milk and eggs every day, Miranda finally snapped and proposed popping the cork and spending a sexy Sunday in bed with the bubbly.

Today, as Miranda sits in her museum’s sculpture garden, populated by Rodin’s tortured and tormented souls cast in bronze, she says: ‘I know he’s happy now, and that’s great. He has a wife and children, and I’m really happy for him. I wish him the best. But I needed different things from our marriage.’